The Agony and the Extasy
by xoxoLee
Summary: Just when she was getting used to single life, a blast from the past turns Stephanie McMahon's world around. Confronted by changes and ghosts from the past, Stephanie discovers the agony and ecstasy of love while figuring out exactly who she is.
1. The Agony and the Opening

Remember those old movies where a couple would reunite after years of separation? They had memories of their youth and young love to hold onto until they stepped inside a dimly lit restaurant. The room would be full and busy but somehow, some way their heart would lead them to their lost love, and it would only be the two of them in their own private world. Of course, the mood would be set with candles and a bottle of wine, from the year they first met of course, and they would talk about life's twists and turns and joke about how funny it was that they ended up crossing paths after all those years. He would grin, she would blush, and years down the road they would get married and tell the very same story of life's tribulations to their grandchildren. Sweet, right? That's what I thought, but tell me—why the _hell_ can't life be like that?

"I swear, I'm never going back to that dry cleaner again," I growled, teeth clenched as my fingers wrestled with the zipper on the back of my dress. It felt like I was taken back to my high school years. I could see it perfectly: Greenwich High School; 1994; prom night. The situation seemed to be exactly the same. I was sweating profusely, on the verge of homicide and preparing for one of the biggest nights of my life. I was ready to scratch my own eyes out while my best friend, Lindsey Greene, buried her nose in the pages of a magazine. Sure there were two separate guys and tonight Lindsey was reading about the latest stock market happenings instead of staring at a pre-bald Joey Lawrence, but the events were practically identical.

I know, I know. At 29 years old I shouldn't draw parallels to my senior prom, but the night _was_ important. Too important for my stupid dry cleaner to shrink my favorite black dress--- and yes, shrinking was the only explanation. It was unfortunate too. The dress was a pretty sultry number: form-fitting, knee length and low enough to flaunt my best assets. It was the kind of dress that was too risqué for a first date but perfect to freshen up the memory of an old friend. And when I say perfect, I mean _perfect_. My face was flushing bright red, growing brighter as I grew more infuriated with my zipper. Yanking and growling I struggled and fought with all the strength I could muster until I heard that one little thread rip. My heart dropped.

"Oh, honey," Lindsey murmured soothingly. I could feel the wetness of tears cascade down my face as my childhood friend and current heroine pulled me close in an attempt to calm my nerves. "Everything will be all right. You look beautiful, and you know you don't have anything to worry about. You're not out to impress anyone tonight," she said, her fingers wrapping around my curls not unlike my mother did in my teen years whenever I still went to her with my problems. And Lindsey was right about everything. "You're worrying yourself to death over a man that would go to Hell and back for you," she continued to reason. "With everything you put each other through there really isn't much to agonize over. Just put this on instead, fix your makeup and have the time of your life. I'm commanding you to, okay?" With a wide, pearly white grin, Lindsey pulled me around to face the closet as she had been and gestured toward a red dress hanging by its lonesome at the very back of my walk-in.

Five minutes later, I had squeezed myself into the wine red dress, because yes, despite the way it looked, it wasn't painted on. And to think, the first and only time that I had worn it was to a charity event. Perhaps it _wasn't_ so absurd that my decency went unknown for years. Well, regardless, I was satisfied with the way I looked. The dress, as tight as it was, was able to maintain some class and still appeal to my less-than-subtle curves. My hair, then blonde, was nicely curled and my make-up was practically flawless. "Are you ready?" Lindsey asked, acting as my support beam, her hand on my arm. I was ready. I _was_ ready, but as soon as Lindsey let go I could feel myself crashing down. As soon as I had stepped one foot out the door, I was prepared to turn back around and whine until Lindsey let me back in. I was able to maintain a steady groan from the driveway all the way to the restaurant.

Trust me, I wasn't groaning for long. The restaurant was a fair sized building, an intimate setting lit by chandeliers and a modest amount of candlelight. The room was packed and the bar was depressingly full. There were tables of families and long lost friends. There were wedding parties and bible study groups. Every cluster you could think of was gathered around a table, large or small, laughing and smiling over old times and Indian food. Not unlike those movies I was talking about earlier. I felt like a sore thumb--- not even a sore thumb --- more like a broken thumb. I had a feeling from the moment I walked into the restaurant that I didn't belong in my idealistic movie scenario like all of the people surrounding me. I was like a deer at a hunting lodge, and yet I stammered over to the hostess with a sheepish and not completely uncomfortable smile without letting my confidence shatter that very second.

"Hi, I'm here under the McMahon-Helmsley reservation," I said to the woman standing at the podium. Like the lady I was I remained composed and took a deep breath. I held myself together, as well as I could for a woman about to have a date with her ex-husband, but I couldn't help but wonder: would I be headed for agony or in my case 'ex'-tasy?

Right now the answer seems to be pretty obvious to me, but let me be the first to tell you, things aren't as simple as choosing one or the other. But you'll understand that eventually.


	2. The Agony and the New Beginning

Let me set the scene: It was Saturday night in Greenwich, Connecticut. The room was romantic with its dim light and relaxed atmosphere, and I was sitting across from my ex-husband. Awkward, I know. We had a habit of running into each other on occasion-- I guess that happens when your ex works for your family's company -- and on the last occasion we met he invited me to dinner at my favorite Indian restaurant. So there I was, in my skin tight red dress, and there he was, looking pretty good himself. Too good. He held up nicely, I had to admit as I gazed from across the table, a smile of satisfaction on my face. There was a lot of gazing and smiling, you know, to make up for the lack of conversation at the table.

"So your hair…"

"Yeah, It's still blonde. I like it. It's different --- good different, I hope. I mean.."

"Your parents?"

"Crazy and dysfunctional."

"Of course. Shane, too?"

"Slightly normal actually, but I'd like to give Marissa credit for that."

"She's great, isn't she?"

"She really is."

And as you can see, when we did start conversing we had yet to regain our natural flow, witty banter and snippy remarks. Understandable though. I mean, after all, we had been divorced for four years. Regardless of how distant we were, even as we sat at the table waiting for our food to arrive, I couldn't help but realize how happy I was. There I was, with a second chance. A chance to make things right. We had ended our relationship – friendship and marriage – on a sour note with a fake pregnancy and bitter divorce proceedings, but I had changed from who I was before. I was no longer a spoiled little princess, daddy's little girl, and I wanted to make it clear to him that I really had grown up.

Countless minutes had passed without major conversation taking place. We thanked our waiter when he brought our food, and joked with smiles on our faces as he inquired about our evening at the restaurant. Aside from that the table had been light on talking. Silence always bothered me. It reminded me of dinner with the family when we realized how cold and heartless our family could be. We would sit down at the table, glare at each other, and pass the mashed potatoes with sneers on our faces. I never wanted any experience to resemble that. Obviously it didn't do much good with my family.

"Thanks for inviting me to dinner. I mean, I'm glad we have a chance to sit down and talk," I began, lifting my glass of water to my lips. "I miss you – your companionship, the times we've had together. I'm glad you haven't held a grudge all these years."

Hunter glanced up from his plate; he was busy pushing a clump of cottage cheese and vegetables across his plate. I'm sure he wasn't watching me as I spoke. Nothing personal intended, I know. It was one of his habits that made my heart burst into flames. I knew inside that he cared, but to look me in the eye would be to expose his own vulnerability. And we couldn't have that, could we? He was ice cold sometimes, but I always had a way of melting that shield away. Maybe this would take a little bit of time but as far as I was concerned, I had all the time in the world to make things right in my life.

"Well, I guess you know what I've been up to lately. I wrestle almost every day of my life. Same old stuff. Besides, you've seen me, because I know I've seen you. What about you? I don't see you around that often," Hunter said, his words dragging though they became more relaxed as he grew more comfortable with our dinner setting.

"Sadly enough, I don't have much to brag about. I mean, _you_, youhave your victories and titles. Me? I'm almost 30 and I haven't wandered too far from home after all this time," the humorous tone in my voice was punctuated with a heavy sigh. Taking another sip of my water, I couldn't help but think about how pathetic I probably sounded, but I finished my story anyway. "I'm living here in Greenwich with my best friend from high school -- you remember Lindsey, right? – and I have a job with a magazine, which seems to be promising. They only want me because I have a 'socialite's view on the world', but I want to be more than some witty rich girl. I'm going to get myself established as a writer and I'm going to move in to my own place."

I was out of breath from rambling, nothing new, and when I would simply return to my food out of fear of saying something ridiculous, a soft noise startled me. Was that laughter I heard? I'm sure I leaned across the table to get a better listen, but the silliness was worth it as it allowed me to hear the confirmation myself. My God, was his laughter infectious, despite its softness. One second I was trying my hardest to hear his chuckle and the next my nose was scrunched in that horrible way it does as I followed suit and chuckled myself. It was a foul circle of follow the leader. He laughed, I laughed, he laughed harder, and I laughed harder. People probably thought we were choking to death on our food.

That night we finished our dinner with smiles on our faces and a cab ride home was unnecessary as I found an escort in my ex-husband. Hunter drove me home, and despite wiping my slate clean from any princess references, I couldn't help but feel like I was starring in my very own fairytale as he walked me to the front door.

"Tonight was good. Very good," I murmured, my voice so low I could hear myself purr. Not like I didn't have a reason to purr though. Hunter was stepping closer, I didn't mind, and before I knew it my arms were around his neck and his lips were locked with mind. Even as our lips parted we held each other for a few minutes just to relive that feeling. We had both been alone for far too long. Before I let go I took a deep inhale of the cologne on his neck before I settled onto my feet, and out of the corner of my eye I could see the blind ruffle and Lindsey's fingertips poking through as she watched with girlish glee.

"Where exactly does this leave us?" Hunter asked, his fingers gliding through his hair as he sighed heavily.

"Friends," I said simply, regretfully, even though I knew that was the answer that needed to be said.

"Friends," he repeated solemnly with the same dose of regret that I had taken.

"I'm not sure we're ready to be anything else. I think we need some time to adjust…get to know each other better. I need to work on things in my life before I can commit to some one else, but please, don't run away because of that. I want you in my life. I'm just not sure how I can have you in my life."

My blue eyes were pleading at that moment, and as pitiful as it must have been he accepted it. Taking my hands in his, he lowered his head and gave me a soft kiss on the forehead, and I knew I was his princess again. He turned away from, slowly letting my hands go as I sulked all the way down the driveway. With my arms folded, my eyes followed him until he disappeared into the darkness of his car, but even before he was enveloped by the night I could see that bastard's smirk. That smirk that said he always got what he wanted.

I couldn't argue this time.


	3. The Agony and the Secretary

My best friend at work was the doorman, because only he could sympathize with me when I walked into work at six in the morning with bags under my eyes that drooped to my knees. For some reason my colleagues were people that were up and prancing at five in the morning, the target audience for Nouveau Chic, I suppose. They were so damn peppy it made my brain ache every time some over-caffeinated twit made conversation with me. The only person that was down-to-earth was Joey, the doorman, which was why I made it part of the agenda to smile, say good morning and hand him a cup of coffee as a sign of peace. He would tell me about any big gossip in the building like whose face looked more firm than it had in recent weeks, who he had seen driving a Honda instead of the Lexus he or she had been driving before, and all other assorted tidbits that made me grin before I met with my boss.

"Hey Joey, how's the family? Kids are doing fine, I hope," I said with a smile as I approached the door. "The kids are excellent. Wife's a pain, but the kids are doing fine," he said in response as his eyes danced in delight. They always did that when he had something good to tell me. As if conflicted in the moral obligations attached with eavesdropping, Joey gave me his bullshit half-smile as though he wasn't excited about his latest batch of gossip.

"Spill," I mockingly forced with a smile.

"Only since you're making me," he began, hands held in front of him as if ready to protest. "This morning Sheila and Martha, or was it Madeline? Damn twins. Well anyway, when Sheila and one of the sisters were walking in, they were talking about the Wicked Witch of Nouveau Chic, and how she found a new pet in our latest secretary. They think she only hired him to get some action at work, which doesn't surprise me. I'm telling you, she pinched me a couple weeks ago, and I didn't appreciate it at all."

Shaking my head, I held in my laughter with a red face as Joey opened the door for me and we both proceeded with our working day. "Great, another pretty boy working to support his up-and-coming modeling career. I guess we'll have to see how this turns out," I said before disappearing into the lobby. It didn't take long to see how things were turning out, because as soon as I entered the building I noticed an unusual sight: a crowd of lonely, giggling women lounging around and talking. What was this? By this time most people were either at their desks or eating breakfast in one of the break rooms. Did I miss something? I felt a rush of genuine confusion that I wore on my brow as I pushed through clusters of chatty women.

"Excuse me," I began as I reached the front desk. Believe me, I had every intention on finishing my thought but as soon as my eyes focused on the man before me, my words just walked away. "Um," I muttered, only to see a delighted grin on the face of the new secretary. A mop of curly black hair, what I assumed to be a natural tan, and the most captivating hazel eyes I've ever seen – it didn't take long for everything to click.

"Can I help you, Miss..?" the guy asked with a chuckle in his voice. I wasn't exactly sure what he was. He was hardly a man, yet I hoped to God he was more than a boy. And there I was pondering this kid, all the while making a fool out of myself. It took his repetition of the question for me to finally answer: "Oh, it's McMahon, Miss McMahon. And yes, I was wondering…is Candace Casey in her office?" One inquisitive glance at me, a quick glance at a notepad that lay in front of him and an affirmative nod in my direction told me she was available.

"Her office is—"

But I cut him off.

"Second floor, end of hall H. I work here. I'm one of the writers. My office is in the same hallway," I explained while wandering away, the whole time smiling and reddening as I stared at him. As I hurried into the elevator mere seconds later, I made a mental note to ask Joey if he had heard any gossip about the new guy.

One long meeting with the boss lady, too many frenzied co-workers, and ten hours later I was ready get the hell away from anything related to Nouveau Chic. I didn't want to see any of my associates, any magazines, or anything that reminded me of a celebrity. I just wanted to go home, order Chinese food and catch up on my Tivo activity. But life could never be so simple, could it?

"Want one?"

An unfamiliar voice took me by surprise. I followed a blue-gray trail of smoke to the end of a cigarette attached to the hand of the secretary. Him. At that moment I wished that I had a name to attach to that gorgeous face, but Him seemed to fit just fine. He was more than a simple human being. He was something much more omnipotent than that. And yes, I realize how ridiculous I sound now but at the time it felt so right. "I don't smoke," I replied simply and yet I still stopped in front of him. He gave an effortless shrug and took a long drag of his cigarette. Blowing out a stream of smoke, his eyes squinted like he was looking directly into the sun and he dropped the nearly untouched cigarette to the ground.

"Jamie," he coolly introduced.

"Stephanie," I flung back trying to match his own coolness, but I suppose that kind of calm came with youth.

Youth. It was a thought that came to me in that moment, as unfortunate as that was. The thought was only unfortunate because my heart immediately plummeted to the depths of my stomach. When I desperately wanted to succumb to the moment it didn't feel too wonderful to have reality rear its ugly head. But perhaps there was hope. Maybe he just looked young.

"So…How old are you exactly?" The question came off in a more spastic manner than I had intended it to come across.

"How old am I? What kind of question is that?" There was that chuckle again. I couldn't tell how offended he actually was, but I laughed softly in response anyway. Judging by the amount of amusement in his voice, or on second thought maybe that was his natural tone, it didn't seem to have bothered him that much.

"I'm sorry," I apologized with light-hearted sincerity. "It's just…You look so young. It's not a big deal, or anything. It would just be nice to know."

He, I mean, Jamie stood with his back against the building's brick wall. With one hand fingering the opening to his pack of cigarettes, the other was used to comb through his thick black curls, and while his eyes were on the ground, mine were giving him the once-over. He looked to be in deep thought for a minute of complete silence. I didn't dare to dishonor that unspoken code. I wanted to wait things out and see what it was that was so important to him. Jamie didn't leave me waiting very long.

"I'll tell you how old I am if you'll go on a date with me," he finally announced with an arrogant smirk.

"Oh?" I questioned with intrigue. His answer should have told me everything. The kids are cocky these days, aren't they?

"I think that's a fair trade," I added with an enthusiastic nod.

Jamie, the kid, nodded calmly and allowed his eyes to drag along the ground once again. With a glance up, he said, "25."

And I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"You see he's not really a man yet, but he's not boy," I found myself explaining to my closest girlfriends (Lindsey Greene, Kelly Martinez and Heidi Ferguson) two hours later. We were having dinner at a relatively posh, relatively new Italian restaurant to celebrate Kelly's acknowledgement as one of the most powerful lawyers in the United States, and Heidi's announcement that she was going to be the proud mother of an adorable little Maltipoo, a Maltese/Poodle mix for those out of the loop. The subject of relationships was bound to come up so I took it upon myself to commence the topic of younger men.

"Did I miss something?" Kelly asked, brows furrowed. "I thought you and Hunter were giving it another go."

Their glances were shot so rapidly I was sure I got whiplash from turning my head back and forth to hear the silent opinions that everyone held. It was strange with girls.

"Just friends," I corrected, my cheeks red from the embarrassment attached with all eyes being on me. Believe it or not, I still hadn't gotten used to any form of attention. "I really want Hunter to be a part of my life, but I feel like I've missed so much at the same time. Is that weird? I mean, I know I'm not ready to wander back into the life I had before. That would mean losing you guys all over again, but I'd lose myself too, you know?"

Three nods were there to reassure me.

"Jamie asked me on a date, and I know every date I've been on since the divorce has been a disaster but I want to give it a try. He seems like a nice guy—"

"That you work with," Heidi cynically interjected.

That night, I went home and stared at the number recorded in my phone for one Jamie Paxton. Somehow I worked up the nerve to confirm a date for the following day, all the while making a mental note to seek the approval of a certain lover-turned-friend.


End file.
